While sitting in tea cup meditation- early

Soft grey clouds at last

No more fire.

I observed this morning’s spirit animal

It was a Willow, walking barefoot with coffee

Wearing white like the cosmos flower.

Nature provides wonder in her many forms

The Willow form like the deer yesterday

Directs my gaze

And I remember how- she only wanted to nurse

Food was not to her liking-

She just wanted breast milk.

I hope to this day that I didn’t break her heart

When we had to stop…

Maybe it was my heart that was broken.

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The Alabaster Sculpture of Willow

Was carved by our Thorn Lake neighbor,

Michael Reardon, many years ago.

No turmoil in retreat…

Tenderness in these tight places.

We’ve been running a refugee encampment

Neighbors displaced from the fire

And their cats

And a few traveler’s too.

Food dishes piled high.

The dishwasher a constant.

Long ago I made a painting

Called The Happy Kitchen where

Every surface has a tipped bowl

or a broken egg, a delightful tribute to chaos

Babies and dogs under foot.

And there I sit,

Over in the corner by myself

At my own, neatly organized table.

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In the coming times

It might not hurt for each of us to increase our awareness

of how we grapple with chaos because…..

More is coming.

A little boy at the water’s edge held

Out for me to see- his small snake

“Oh you frightened me” I said ,

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Life is a series of frights

Each one personal….

Slowly, I am learning to admit ( to myself)

Those things heavy on my heart

So that spirit might help recirculate them

Get the spirit flow moving again.

Acceptance is sometimes not easily won

But it’s the only winning there is.

Little snake held in the boys hands

The wonder of it.

In the last days of Crystal Beach

The rides cost 5 cents

So we rode continuously on the wildest one

Clack clack clack up to the top

Only to free fall to our fate

It feels like this now- this wild ride we are on.

But the kid in me remembers

The roller Coaster’s absolute joy and

The awesome terror that we might die.

All for the cost of 5 cents.

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Thank you Joe Biden for steering

The frayed ship called America.

I am personally thankful to think of you resting

For the rest of your life.

Thank you for your service.

I am the shaman of the river house

As I look to the East – first light

My breath slows as I watch

The deer enter the field…..

Hot tea in my hands.

Can we sort ourselves from the collective?

From the other, so that we might

Come to know our own sweet energy- apart.

Only in this way- can I be an empty canvas

For spirit- SHE.

The cooling image of the sailboat on the water

Was a photo of blue I snapped

From the inside of my grubby trash can….

Happiness is Blue

As we still recover from snake bite

I notice that I get these days in between

Where I have let go and

The “All Knowing Rest” comes in,

No more struggle

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Snake bite has pried me open

I can’t hold onto the small….

The constant love we have received has been over the top

All the people we have ever known

Want to weigh in and let us know.

It’s like being dead

Swirling upside down in a vortex of love

Watch out dear ones, rattle rattle-

The poison is the nectar.

I

In my dream

I’d had a baby but due to a difficult birth

I was dis-associated from it

I’d walked away

But when I heard the baby cry

I found myself, as if in a trace,

Picking her up……and

Putting her to my breast

Her small mouth -the latch.

The profound wonder of it.

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Sometimes parts of ourselves miraculously return.

A cellular change

I feel different, more calm.

She and I are connected.

Right before John’s run in with the snake

I started a morning tea and mediation practice

Each day, our faithful sun brings light to the garden

As my own heart echo’s in response.

Remembering the truth of the whole thing

To laugh and delight and be amazed

At the beauty in a human soul

Transmuting the poison into nectar.

The great green heart alchemy.

“Swing low sweet chariot – coming for to carry me home”

Banks nudges the door open with his nose because

John is blowing cottonwood seed from the deck

From his wheel- chair.

In an Odyssey of our own

Mythology came to bite us

Not a lethal doze

But way more then I would of asked for

If I lament too much I will be lost so instead

I will show you things I like

The bird at the feeder, the flowers in the vase- Banks asleep in the sun

The bird sounds- even the sharp ones

Dead flies on the sill, sunlight

My old hands, that I am writing

That the day is mine, that I can rest if I want to.

Catapulted into spirit

On this day of the Lunar standstill

Our Sun most North and our Moon most South

In Chaco Canyon, The Dagger of Light

Pierces the spiral petroglyph

Made a 1000 years ago and

If you pause a moment you can feel it

A call to go deep and be.

To standstill with our sister the moon

Lunar- ly – I lean with risk toward you….

Always there is the possibility of snake bite.